Look but don't touch
by Hell789abdv
Summary: AU: Those are the rules, but some rules should be broken.
1. Chapter 1

1 of 2.

AU.

* * *

Ste Hay walks through the grey streets dipping his head to keep the rain out of his face, bag over his shoulder grasped tightly in his hand to keep it in place. He bumps into a few people not watching where they're going too busy rushing to avoid getting wet. He's already soaked a few more drops isn't going to do any harm, he'll be getting changed soon anyway at least that's the plan. Three months at catering college and he's back to the quickest, easiest way for making money he's ever come across.

Only the club he usually works at has been taken over while he was away although Mitzeee said that it would be fine and he could come back. He'd worked at a couple of different clubs and this one was the best. Best clientele, best tips, best bouncers. It was his favourite. He'd hardly believed it when Doug told him that Tony had sold up. He thought he'd be the owner forever, but all good things had to come to an end.

He walks down the back alley avoiding the front of the club and the easiest way to the back door. The bouncer Brad greets him warmly although his face doesn't reflect it. He can't remember ever seeing him smile in all the years he's been working here. He's a good bloke though just takes his job of looking hard a little too far.

"Straight to the office." No going into the back and catching up with everyone until the paper work was done.

He nods and thanks Brad.

Even though it's grey and miserable outside it still takes him a moment to get used to the darkness inside the club. The heavy bass line thumping from the speakers. The low lighting. He stays on the main corridor instead of going down the dressing room to drop his bag off, show that he hadn't disobeyed. He rounds the bottom of the black steel staircase and jogs a little up the stairs. There's a narrow balcony with railing that runs from one side on the club to the other a hangover from the days it had been a nightclub. The office sits in the centre of it.

He takes a moment to look down at the clubs floor. The layouts different than when he'd last been here. The stage still prominent but the poles in different positions than they had been. The TV's playing out porn are fewer but bigger. The bars in the same place. The tables have more room between them, there's a row of soft furniture that was new and the stools and wall tables. It different he'll give the new bloke that.

He smiles at a few regulars sat roughly where he'd left them.

"Sweet cheeks." He knows that voice even with the music a little too loud for conversation, it's the nickname and the squeeze of his arse that gives it away. He turns to face him.

"Your still here then." He always says he going to be gone by the time he gets back, said the same thing since he'd met him and yet every time he's back he's still here. He knows every time that he threatened to leave Tony upped his pay a little just to keep him. He was a big attraction.

"Wouldn't get half the tips you get without me."

"Yeah? Think I hold more than my own... What's the new boss like?"

"You'll see." Simon flashes him his winning but slightly too smug smile as he walks away disappearing down the stairs.

He gives the door a quick tap before stepping to the side and glancing into the office through the massive tinted window even though he can't see in if Mitzeee's in there she'll see him.

"Come in." Mitzeee holds the door for him.

It's different. The white and chocolate coloured walls that Tony had had replaced with grey and lime green. It's dimmer as well. The furniture all black instead of the oak that had been there…

"Been a bit of a change."

He nods and grips his bag tighter.

"I can still work can't I?" He needs the money and he'd rather make it here than go elsewhere. He knows people here. He can trust them.

"The new boss wants to meet you before he'll decide whether your re-hired or not. I mean if it was just me there wouldn't be a problem but Brendan's a bit…" She scrunches her nose. "Particular." He rolls his eyes. "I told him how much the punters love you but… My hands are tied."

He nods. Fair enough. New boss, fresh look maybe it had been too easy expecting Mitzeee to still have the strings.

"I'll go get him… And between you and me try and keep your attitude in check." She smiles and disappears out the door before he can stop her. He needs to get changed in that case. He can't meet his new boss soaked to the bone, with his hair in a mess…

"…don't need anyone else." He hears the end of the conversation as the door opens. Irish then. He swings his chair around. "You've got to be kidding me? How old are you boy?" He turns to Mitzeee. "Is he even legally old enough to work here?" Patronising prick.

"More than old enough." He says lips twisting.

"Got some ID?"

He looks at Mitzeee who shrugs. She knows how old he is. He sighs and digs into his bag, thankful that he bothered to put it in.

"Here, I take it you can read?" He throws his driving licence at the bloke who catches it effortlessly. Mitzeee gives him a tight shake of the head. Yeah he knows. Less attitude.

Brendan snorts a little as he reads the date of birth and throws it straight back at him. It hits his chest and he scrambles a little to get it in his grip. Smooth. He stuffs in the top of his bag.

"Think you have what it takes to work in this club?" He demands attention. It's like he fills the room. It makes him feel small and he's never liked that feeling much.

"Well since I've been working here on and off for three years I'd say I know I do."

The way he's looking at him. The slight sneer of disgust and doubt. It crawls under his skin and riles him. He needs the money but he's not out of options.

"If you don't want me working here then just say right cos if you don't I've got two kids to feed and I'll have to work out something else."

He's looking straight through him. Fucking intimidating. He tries to make himself bigger in his seat. Tries not to show that it's making his stomach knot. He's got him pegged. Big hard man, not to be messed with, he's met more than one of those.

Brendan looks away and flicks a finger at him and walks around him, sitting behind his desk.

"Strip. Let's see what you've got."

He looks at Mitzeee who offers nothing. He shakes his head and pulls his hoodie and his soaking t-shirt over his head in one go and drops them on top of his bag. Goosebumps rising on his skin.

"I hope you're slower with customers." Brendan smirks at him leaning back in big chair.

He rolls his eyes but doesn't slow down. He undoes his belt and button on his jeans dropping them but leaving his boxers. He looks up into where the ceiling meets the wall above Brendan's head. He goes out in very little dances for men mainly, a few women and comes back with the same very little still on, still he doesn't like this being looked over like this. He's not ashamed of his body. He's toned. He works out especially knowing what he's doing in the term break. Diets a little makes sure that he's in top shape. He needs to be for the best tips.

"Turn around." Brendan commands.

He turns slowly keeping his eyes up, the full 360.

"So?" He wants to get this over with.

Brendan hums and little. He makes the mistake of looking at him. He feels exposed. He is exposed but he almost feels naked under his gaze. He knows that look. He's a piece of meat that Brendan's going to sell to the starving crowd and he's wondering just how much he can get for him. He knows that's what he is. He's got to get used to it again. He hasn't been faced with it for a while. It still affects him too much. The acceptance, this just being the way it is, isn't there. It'll come back, he just needs a couple of days getting used to being steak again instead of cooking it.

"He's very popular with the older men." Mitzeee states. "He works well with Simon, Doug and Dodger… And he's requested a lot in the private rooms." He bites his lip to stop himself for telling her to shut the fuck up. This is bad enough without her selling him too.

"No drinking except for water and don't try and get it passed me because I know every trick in the book. No drugs. No boyfriends or girlfriends on the premises. No encouraging clients to break the rules. You're not a prostitute and if you have sex, give or receive a blow job or even a hand job with anyone here you will be fired immediately. I will make sure that clients behave themselves with you if you behave yourself with them. Got it?"

"I got it." He's heard the same speech before. "Can I get dressed now?"

Brendan pauses, tilts his head and nods firmly.

"You start tonight six til three." It's always long hours. He pulls his jeans up, fastening his belt and nods waiting for him to continue which he doesn't.

"That's fine."

"When were you last on stage?"

"Three months or so. But I always pick it straight back up."

"I'll be the judge of that, you'll dance on song with Walker early if I'm suitably impressed there may be another later. Still remember how to work the room?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't." He replies and he sees Brendan bristle. Maybe reacting with sarcasm to his patronising tone isn't the best way to get on his good side, especially when he's not on staff yet. "I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will. Welcome to Brady's Steven." Brendan offers his hand.

"It's Ste." He says as he shakes it.

"I'll leave you in Anne's capable hands." Brendan nods, grunts a little then strides out the room, the door shuts hard.

"He's a bit intense isn't he?" He says turning back to Mitzeee. "Anne? That's your name?"

"I wasn't born Mitzeee – three e's you stroppy scrawny little council rat."

He scowls at her then laughs, glad that it's just them again. She shakes her head at him and points a pen at him.

"Better watch that mouth of yours he fired Dennis for talking back to him."

He plays mock surrender then shrugs it off pulling on a clean t-shirt from his bag and pulls it on. Dennis worked behind the bar. Barmen were ten a penny. What he did… Well he was good at it. There were other men better at it, but he was still good.

"Just got a couple of forms to fill in."

He sighs at the forms. Every time he has to do them. Name, date of birth, address, next of kin… His hand is cramping by the time he's done.

"List of house rules. No major changes."

He takes the piece of paper and has a look at what the customers are now being told is and is not acceptable, it's basically the same as always.

Clients can't touch unless he lets them. Hands on the hips is as far as he ever goes with that. He's had more than one bad experience where a bloke wouldn't let him go and the bouncer had to interfere. He'd told more than one client to sit on his hands while he danced for him.

If he feels uncomfortable or if the customer won't behave he has to tell a bouncer. They're never more than a few feet away.

Anyone who has consumed too much alcohol will be asked to leave. Drink but don't get hammered.

No drugs on the premises. He rolls his eyes at how much shit that is because there's always drugs in clubs like this. Fat rich blokes or bankers snorting more than he can earn in a week up their noses in less than a minute.

Violence will not be tolerated.

Private dances at the discretion of Miss Minerva or Mr Brady. That is a bit of a change because it was always that if he knew the clients and was comfortable he'd just tell the head bouncer on the night and he'd ok it but it was fine, safer really. At least he knows where the name of the club came from. Brady's. Brendan Brady.

"I better go see Simon see what music he wants." He never gets to pick when he's working with Simon but then he's part time and Simon's here dancing his arse off all year.

"It's early I don't want show stealing, and that goes double for him, save it for later. And you tell him I said that."

He's greeted in the communal dressing room by everyone, a few new faces replacing a few that he's glad to have seen had left, a couple he's sad to see aren't working. There's a general rapport that comes from what they do yet at the same time it's competitive and there's more than a little back biting. There's an established order. He slots in somewhere above the newbies and the headliners.

"Deftones – Change." Simon has the playlist of songs that they have worked too together before.

"Simon." He sighs. Mitzeee will do her nut if they dance to that. The routine was far too good for early hours with minimal clients. It's a waste. He'd dance it, enjoyed dancing it but it was hard to find motivation when there weren't many people there. It wouldn't be worth the effort and he had a new boss to impress.

"That or we do Closer." Simon smiles brightly.

Fuck no. It's an obscene routine, he's danced a lot of routines none made him feel as naked on stage as that one, it was fun when they'd done it a few times and he got his embarrassment under control but more suited to midnight. It was a real party pleaser. He wasn't confident enough to do it first night back.

"What about Piece of me?" He asks carefully. Simon is a headliner, he can only suggest and although he's never had a real problem with Simon before, he was easy going enough not to be a diva about things, he still didn't want to step on his toes.

"No, my dear sweet thing I will never ever dance to that again. It was a bet to prove a point. You want to do that you do it with Doug. I'm sure he'd be all too willing."

He rolls his eyes at his suggestive tone. There's nothing between him and Doug other than friendship. They got on well it was everyone else that decided it was more.

"Do I wanna know? Last offer or we do Closer and I say it was your special request."

"Mitzeee wouldn't believe you." Brendan might though especially because Simon has retained his position on top of the tree. "Alright. Fine." It was the lesser of the evils mentioned so far.

Simon has him go through the more complicated moves to make sure he still knows the routine more like make sure that he won't show him up on stage.

He gets himself changed into his tightest red shots from his bag to match Simon's. He rubs himself with a little oil, not too much he's not some muscle bound Adonis and his appeal was innocence apparently but still it helped the slide of skin over skin.

He gets nervous before the goes out, his stomach flips a few times. Three months or a hour he always gets nervous. He looks out slit to the side of the main curtains to check the crowd level, it's good, better than the early crowd used to be.

"Let's go sweetheart."

The bass line thunders into life, thump matching his heart as he steps out under the lights. He focuses on it to stop him rushing as he goes to his pole, makes sure his hips flick to the beat, slow and steady. He takes the pole in hand and twists around it he's no gymnast but he can get away with what he can do. He poses at the accents in the music. He grinds and his hips start to really remember that this isn't the gym and working a pole takes a couple of muscle groups that he hasn't been working on.

At the chorus he steps away and makes his way to Simon passes him with his best flirty glance and works the other pole. He glances at Simon and he knows he's off a bit, he misses half a beat to right himself and gets back into it ready to work the stage proper.

They work the crowd, offering the gathered men and women a closer look at what they've got before they work each other. Grinding hips, suggestive moves, the tease of going to kiss then pulling back just before contact, he slides his fingers through the oil and sweat on Simon's chest, looks up at him through his eyelashes. Simon winks at him, then grabs him by the hips and grinds them together. He reaches his arm back around Simon's neck, pulls him down into another not there kiss as the song ends.

The crowd show their appreciation a few already rowdy near the back. It looks like it's going to be a good night.

The idea isn't to get the money on the stage, the idea is to get seen and get requested for a more personal show. Lap dances on the main floor or the real money, private shows.

"Not bad." Simon says as they head back down to the dressing room.

He gets a quick shower, dries himself off as quick as possible and changes into his blue shorts, always preferred lycra shorts to speedo's or thongs. They revealed just as much but in shorts he felt less vulnerable.

"Boss wants to see you in the office." Jack states as he comes in grabbing a towel. "That would be now Ste."

"Yeah, thanks."

He doesn't think Brendan is the type of man that likes to wait so he hurries, pulling his hoodie on. It's boiling in the club he just doesn't like to parade around half naked when he doesn't have to.

Brendan's standing on the balcony, he's the first thing that he sees as he gets to the top of the stairs. Bent over looking down on the crowd with a tumbler in hand. He licks his lips and forces the nerves down as he approaches, still can't stop fiddling with his hoodie sleeves. He gets to a foot away and stops.

"I know I was…" Brendan turns to him pressing a finger to his lips, then gesturing to the open office door. He takes a breath and steps inside. He feels Brendan behind him so he goes further in to make room.

"I know I was out right but I got it back and Simon was happy enough and I know that it's important that…"

"Shhhhh Steven." Brendan states and he shuts up. "I only wanted to know if you can work tomorrow."

He frowns taken aback he thought that Brendan would be hard on him for his mistake like most of the other bosses he's had like him.

"Yeah course any nights I can get. I'll work them, not during the day like I've got another job but any night."

"Good... Good. I'll speak to Anne."

He nods and there's an awkward silence where he's not sure if he's meant to go or not. He rocks on the balls of his bare feet.

"Off you go." Brendan states reaching for the whiskey on the desk and pouring another drink into his tumbler.

He nods, smiles a bit and shuts the door on his way out. He sighs with relief. He wasn't sure whether he was going to be out on his ear. There was always a chance that Brendan was like that. There were bosses like that he'd heard about them from other dancers that changed clubs regularly.

He works the room serves a few drinks to tables as directed and does a few lap dances getting back into it. The tease. The grind. The promise of more than any of these men were going to get.

He has a few private room requests off a couple of blokes that he knows well and are very pleased to see him back, a few that he doesn't know but every single on gets turned down.

"You've got to be joking?" He looks to Mitzeee behind the bar when the seventh is denied. She shrugs at him.

"What the fuck is that about?" He rages as he pulls on his hoodie and lies on the bench, his legs are killing him, the crouch position just above a bloke's crotch, grinding there, keeping the distance just right was hurting it was easier to have the contact but then he lost a bit of the tease. He knew it would pass after a couple of days but until then he was going to take his breaks lying down.

"Brady doesn't know you like Tony did maybe he's just making sure he can trust you." Jack states as he dried himself off from his shower.

"What's that meant to mean?"

"Maybe he wants you to settle back in." Doug says smiling encouragingly.

"He do this to anyone else?" He asks and everyone in the dressing room looks at each other then shakes their heads. No. He hadn't.

"Did you let your mouth get away with you?" Simon asks turning in his chair.

"Not really." So maybe he'd been a bit lippy but Brendan was big enough to take it.

"You did." Jack barks a laugh. "And he wonders why." He addresses the rest of the changing room.

"I wasn't that bad."

"Appears it was bad enough."

He gets himself up and goes to work the floor see if he can get a bit more money.

A fight breaks out on the table to his right as he's working a middle aged bloke with a wedding ring on his finger, he manages to avoid anything more serious than a shove to the floor and beer getting spilled on him. He's taken aback by Brendan wading into the middle of it. Four blokes all beating the living daylights out of each other and Brendan doesn't even wait for the bouncers. He's furious and more than a little scary as he grabs one bloke by the head and pushes him into the table to control him, his mate goes to punch him but he hits him first.

He sits on the floor looking up at the fight. Brendan isn't to be messed with. No fucking way the blokes scary. He looks bigger, the anger in him makes him look bigger and he's not small to start with.

"I'm paying you for this not to happen David." Brendan turns on the bouncer as soon as Raz and Denny have the others kicked out.

"I'm sorry boss. I…"

"I don't want excuses. You're fired."

"But boss." David stutters.

"Was anything I just said not clear? You are fired. Get your stuff see Ann on the way out I don't want to see you here again."

Gary pulls his arm helping him up.

"Get yourself in the back for a breather."

He dries the sweat and a bit of stray alcohol from his body, pulls his hoodie on and waits for Gary to come back and get him. He can't believe that Brendan fired David. It wasn't his fault that the blokes had kicked off. He was barely a few feet away and he hadn't felt it stirring before it happened. Although it was half eleven and eleven until one was the trouble time. Every time.

He downs half a bottle of water he's so thirsty. Gary comes to the door and nods to him. He pulls off his hoodie and heads back into the madness.

He dances with Doug on stage to Katy Perry's Teenage Dream to switch the pace up. It's a far less intense routine. A bit of fun. Then heads back out to work the tables.

By the time three comes and he can go home his legs don't feel attached to his body and he aches in places he forgot he had but he has two hundred and seventy five quid in his hand minus the cut the club take.

He works in a café during the day in the week, he needs to keep his hand in for when he goes back otherwise it wouldn't be worth it, it's minimum wage, the hours mixed with those he works in the club have him on his knees. He gets in from the club around four, has to get up at six finishes at the café at three which doesn't allow him anytime to go home before he goes to the club for his shift on the nights he's not working at the club he usually falls asleep in front of the TV, he sees more of his kids when he's at college but they're who he needs the money for. Amy maybe working as well but they've got two growing kids, a flat and a car to pay for.

Amy was his best friend now that they had broken up when it was clear they were only together for the kids.

They didn't love each other. It was a close friendship bound by their love of their kids but it wasn't love it was convenience. It took him a few months to realise that maybe there was more to it, that perhaps it wasn't just that they didn't love each other. He started looking around when he got a night out and started to realise that he was more attracted to the men than the women. Amy supported him when he embraced the fact he was gay although there was a bit of awkwardness at first however after a while it settled down.

He and Amy had an agreement, he would look after the kids and work while she studied and once she had her degree and had a job he could go to catering college.

He catches a couple of hours sleep in the dressing room in the corner out of everybody's way. He wakes to find Brendan talking to Simon in the far corner he gets up and stretches out. He really needs to get the private performance thing sorted. He's not making the money he needs but after Brendan's display he wondered if he'll fire him like David or pin him to the wall, he'd rather not push his luck. He leaves them to talk, he has a glance through the curtain. Mitzeee's not behind the bar. Office then.

"I'd love to say that it's me and I'll stop it but it's not. Brendan has the say on you."

"But it's not fair…" He's cut off by the door opening.

"Whining Steven?" Brendan smirks.

"Look I'm not being funny but I need the money from…" He pauses, maybe that's not the best way to go about this. "I'm sorry for whatever it is I've done alright. But please can you consider letting me work the private rooms."

"Go and get ready."

"Does that…" He just wants an answer.

"I'll let you know."

He nods and tries to let out the huff of frustration. He scrubs the sleep and grease from the cafe off himself in the shower. He can't go out there smelling of a kitchen although given how bad some of the customers smell maybe they wouldn't care.

"Change in the house of flies." Simon smiles at him like he's just been given a thousand pounds. Maybe he has, who knows what Brendan was discussing with him. "Moi et tu."

"Tonight?" God he couldn't feel less like doing that. Too slow. Too complicated. Too much pole work.

"Bosses request."

He rolls his shoulders. Maybe he can get Brendan on side if he nails it although he's not sure what he's got to do. Brendan could give in if he messes up the routine. Bar him from the stage and only let him work the floor and the back rooms. Fuck know what that man is thinking.

Mitzeee goes through the order on stage before posting it on the wall to the side of the door. He's only got that one dance on stage which suits him just fine if he's not going to get the benefit of the shop window.

"He's never been to a place like this before… Will you give him his first lap dance off a boy?" He nods sweetly before turning to Jason with a tiny roll of his eyes that he can't control, at the nod back he sets off his routine using the music from Ross' performance to give him a rhythm. The blokes pretty fit if he met him anywhere but here he'd be seriously interested. Maybe thirty, he shakes with nerves and excitement, hands clenched against the wooden seat beneath him, pupils blown when he faces him and ruts his hips.

"You're very pretty." The bloke breaths looking over him. "You take it?"

He drags his fingers over the man lips then places it against his own and slowly takes in the tip sucking to make his cheeks hollow.

"Hard." He says as he lets the finger loose and traces the bloke lip again, pulling it back as soon as his tongue appears.

"Can I touch you, please?" The man stutters as he trails his fingers over his shoulders. "God please."

He reaches down and takes the man's hands in his slowly raising them up and placing them on his hips.

"Keep them there." He states.

"What's your name?" The man asks as his slides up his body until his nipples brush against his cheek.

"Ste."

"You taste as sweet as you look?"

He drops his head down to the blokes collar bone then slowly rises up as close to contact as possible, blowing as he goes until he's level with his mouth, an inch apart and runs his fingers through the man hair.

"Better."

"Time." Jason states and he licks his lips a little and gives a coy smile before lifting himself off.

"Can I have your number?"

"No. I'm sorry, that's not possible." He states, he tries to look genuinely sorry as he takes his money and turns he sees Brendan staring at him. He stares right back. Ask any one he'd done what he was meant to do. No numbers exchanged on the floor. He's shocked when Brendan nods a little but firmly. He lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Thank fuck for that.

He's not a fan of the music. It's too heavy but it's interesting to move to. He snakes his hips as Simon runs his hands down his torso. There's something about this routine that captivates the audience. He doesn't know what it is. He's part of it so maybe he can't see it. He knows that men and the few women, usually hen parties that come in love it. Simon, toned and shaped, built contrasting against his skinny frame. And there's a chemistry between them, always has been. Simon's attractive but he wouldn't fuck him, thought about it a lot when he first started working with him. Obsessed for quite a few weeks about what it would be like but it didn't happen and if it was going to it would have been then, the more he worked with him the more he saw the less he wanted. It wore off, it's still underlying but it's not what it was. He's still half hard by the time they finish.

He towels himself dry and changes out of his shorts into another set willing his erection to go down fully before he goes back out onto the floor.

"Private client for you Ste." Ray says. "Room 4."

Fucking finally. Time to make some proper mney.

He checks himself in the mirror before he goes to the entrance to the back. Ethan steps aside and lets him through. He blows out a breath as he gets to the door, pulls the handle and steps inside with his eyes down.

"Steven." Brendan. He's sat on the chair in the middle of the room. White shirt unbuttoned a few holes, black trousers, legs spread wide.

"Thought you were a customer." He sighs. Fuck. He shakes his head and leans against the wall.

"Consider this a trial."

He rolls his eyes at the tone. He's not some rookie and Brendan should be able to tell that.

"I know what I'm doing you know." He huffs. "I know the rules."

"Show me."

He shakes his head in disbelief.

"I'm your boss you want to keep working here..."

"Fine." He sighs and approaches. What a waste of time. He could be working the floor. "This how you get your kicks? Freebies." He's high off the buzz of being on stage, it never fails to loosen his tongue.

"Not sure I like your tone Steven."

"I've met blokes like you before you know? Run the club so think they can get whatever they want." He may as well say it. It's so disappointing that Brendan's one of the sleazes, he thought he was alright. Weird. Intense. Intimidating but down the line at least.

Brendan barks a laugh.

"So cynical for one so young… I just want to make sure my customers are getting what they pay for… Brendan reaches into his pocket and pulls out three fifty pound notes. "This help? I'm paying." He lets the notes drop to the floor.

"Paying? Really?" To check up on him, to make sure his customers were happy. It's happened before. He'd danced for other bosses all part of their power games to make sure he knew he was a product they were selling. On one particular nasty occasion he'd been asked by one of his bosses for sex to keep his job, he'd walked straight out and never gone back.

"What is the problem here Steven? You are a dancer. I've asked you for a private dance, I'm paying you. You like this with my clientele? If…"

"Fine." He cuts him off. "Do you need me to go through the rules with you sir?" He couldn't help the sarcasm.

"Your rules." Brendan sighs and leans back.

"You want to touch me you ask, if I say no I mean no. If I say yes I will direct your hands. No grabbing or I walk out got it?"

Brendan purses his lips, and rolls his head slightly.

"I think I can manage that."

He nods and turns away from him. Customer. Customer. Not boss. Customer. He turns back and steps between Brendan's legs and turns away again. He starts slowly, a few deep grinds down followed by a slow sweeps up, a slow turn towards him extending his arms and sliding them up from his chest to his shoulders, he couldn't miss the muscle. He'd seen his strength in the fight, his intimidation, but he can't intimidate him here because here he's in control. He makes the rules and Brendan has to stick to them boss or no boss. He even tries to take advantage and there was a camera in the top right of the room monitored. Although as he look it's off…

Nerves bubble in his stomach, he's trapped alone with a man that was not only his boss but a mystery to him. He wasn't sure what he'd do next but Brendan wasn't doing anything to worry him. His hands down, a few finches here and there, increased breathing but he was getting a lap dance… He leans forward and lets his chin rub up Brendan's neck. Fuck he smells good. So maybe he'd noticed that Brendan's attractive about five seconds into meeting him, everything about him screams dominance, and alpha male, so masculine, his frame, his facial hair, his chest hair such a contrast to his own body that it fascinated him, but he's his boss. There was a line there and he hadn't let himself think about having him in this position.

He has it though… Touching him, having him not at his mercy but under control even a little is hot and his body is responding to the closeness. He keeps shimmying his hips down and twisting up, he turns and faces him placing his hands behind him on Brendan's thighs for balance as he leans back and thrusts a little, pushes himself up off surprisingly muscular thighs and puts a hand on Brendan's shoulder, running the other down his own body and gyrating. He looks Brendan in eye like he should have been doing from the start, like he did with other customers and swings his hips, lowering himself down until he's on Brendan's lap. He's hard. Big as well, he can feel it through the fabric. He rolls himself back up, chest against Brendan's as he goes, he steps around and lowers himself again hands on Brendan's thighs, he pushes his back against his chest and grinds. Brendan lets a poof of breath against his neck. He lets off the pressure and raises up a little pushing his arse back into Brendan's abs just low enough to feel the hardness under his balls and works back down tapping his cock just there, slides forward then back a few times letting his own hardness play across the fabric. He turns his head to look at him while he's doing it. Brendan's got his eyes closed, lips slack, breath panting little staccato bursts, on the edge… Beautiful in his arousal. He turns back and grinds harder running his fingers through the back of Brendan's hair pulling him closer. Until the breathes are pushed out against his skin of his neck. He slides down a little further and takes Brendan's hands, wrapped around the legs of the chair, grip tight, it takes more than one attempt before Brendan releases his hands into his grasp, he pulls them up as he goes and places one on his thigh dragging it up to his hip, Brendan's hand instantly curling and gripping hard, the other he drags up his chest over his nipples, he lets it go as he loses a little balance, Brendan pushing him further back into his chest and licks the side of his neck just below his ear. He's caught between the hand on his hips and the hand on his chest he turns his head and licks his lips caught in the moment, in the tingle of his skin the build of his pleasure, leans forward and brushes his lips against Brendan's a gently, groaning when Brendan grabs his neck and buries his tongue in his mouth, he pushes into it wanting more but Brendan pulls away.

"You're fired Steven." The words don't register for a moment but then he looks up into Brendan's now open eyes and knows he heard them. Brendan shoves him off him.

"No. You can't." Not for that. Shit what was he thinking?

Brendan's eyes narrow at him.

"I won't have lads like you working for me."

"Lads like me?!"

"You broke your own rules. You can't stick to those. There's a problem."

"I kissed you there's nothing in the rules against that."

"You let me touch you without asking."

"Didn't hear you complaining… Shouldn't you have kicked off then?" A twitch goes off in Brendan's cheek. "Look I got carried away alright, but please, please don't… I really need the money."

"Should have thought about that."

"I was thinking with my dick, alright? I've never ever done that before…" He leans back against the wall. "Not at work anyway."

"Anne will pay you what you're owed."

He punches the wall behind him and strides out to the door. He's already begged more than he ever should have. Prick. He was into it. He'd kissed him back.

He grabs his stuff and quickly gets changed. Hard on still raging on despite himself, he pushes it down and ignores it. He storms into the office.

"What happened?" Mitzeee asks handing over a small brown envelope.

"Doesn't matter. I'll see you around yeah."

He goes straight to Michael's club a couple of streets away. No jobs going. Arnold's. No. Gate's, not what they're looking for. He rings Nige. Nothing happening. He goes further afield to the very limits of what he can manage and still keep his café job. No one hiring except one…

"You're not working there." Amy states through the hatch.

"No one else has anything." He replies as he finishes off the sauce and hands it to the chef to taste.

"Can you have the domestic elsewhere please?" Janet, the owner states as she comes to collect the plates.

He takes her a sandwich when he finally gets his break and drinks coffee looking out the window.

"We'll manage Ste we always do." Somehow, someway. It's not about managing though. It's about their lives being easier. It's about not being gnawed by guilt while he's learning and Amy's supporting all of them. "I'm getting a pay rise soon and you'll be on placement. It's not going to be like when you were a full time student." Or when she was. Or when they were teenagers with broken families raging against them. Although his Mam stopped giving a shit when she realised that there was nothing for her to have. When for years it was a never ending battle against final demands, needing nappies and needing food.

He shakes his head.

"We need a new boiler." They both know that they can't go through winter without it and there's no money to spare for that and child care that they need when Mike, Amy's dad is working and can't take them.

"I'll ask my Dad for a loan."

"We owe him loads already." And Mike hates him more than enough already. "It'll be fine."

"I don't want you working for Danny. You told me the horror stories."

"I'll be fine I always am."

She glares at him. He knew he shouldn't have told her she worries enough without tails of drugging and rape but he hadn't thought he'd ever be working for him again.

"Might not even be a job there."

"I hope not." She states unashamed.

He finishes at the café, goes home and picks up his bag. It was better to have it with him than not.

"I've heard some very interesting rumours about you." Danny smiles leaning back in his seat as he stands in his office. Dark, grimy, still cleaner than his club.

"Rumours?"

"You putting out to customers. Brady rang me to warn me that you were caught breaking the rules."

Brendan. That bastard. Fuck sake. Brendan is why no one will take him on. One slip. One brain dead moment and he was being shafted and not in a good way. He hadn't wasted anytime as soon as he left Brendan must have been on the phone to everyone.

"You know I have no problem with that." Danny states. "I even encourage it. Should have come to me if you wanted to branch out."

He shudder runs down his spine. Lap dancing, dancing wasn't anything like prostitution. He was getting paid to excite and captivate, tease nothing more. Everything was on his terms. But Danny had lads working for him that weren't just dancers, who would fuck clients…

"Danny I just want to dance yeah nothing else… No extra's." His jaw tenses on the word.

"Of course, this isn't a brothel." Danny winks at him like they're sharing a secret. "Eight til closing." He'll barely have time to go home before his shift at the café, in fact he won't bother, take a shower and go straight there. "Sign on the dotted line."

He sighs and signs. It'll be fine, he'll manage to keep himself out of the way, head down, work take the money.

First shift and he gets grabbed, Danny's bouncers stand back and let it happen. There aren't enough of them on the floor. He has to deal with it himself, which he does he's worked here before and he's not scared of standing up for himself when he needs to. It makes him uneasy. He's always, always been able to rely on the bouncers to help him and put customers back in their place especially when there's a group of them, remind them that he's not theirs to do what they like with. He doesn't work on stage. Danny's got this thing about pretty boys, which apparently he is working the floor and the bigger, more muscular men working the stage.

When he gets a stray elbow from a fight that had broken out Amy blows her lid about the black eye. He manages to get her talked round because it actually hadn't been anyone's fault. He'd get been too slow to move out of the way as the trouble kicked off and been caught getting out of it.

Danny takes more of a cut from him than anyone else he's ever worked for more than he used to. But he doesn't bring it up, he avoids Danny at all costs because it's not worth getting himself into that sort of jam. Danny offering him more if he offers more because he won't do it and if he starts on about money that's the only way it's going to go.

By the time he's worked there two weeks even getting ripped off by the management he's got enough for the boiler but he keeps working determined that he can pay the electric and the gas until the Christmas break from college where he can make enough in a club to see them out until summer.

"Skinny little… I'd rip that tiny arse of yours apart… You'd like that…" The bloke reeks of bad aftershave and beer. One of Danny's friends that had requested a private performance. He's a good two stone over weight and ugly as fuck. But he's working, he's professional and he's Danny's mate… "Stick my cock right there." He guy pokes at his arse, near his hole, he slaps his wrist hard.

"No touching."

"You want it." The bloke growls and does it again.

"You were warned." He lifts up only the bloke wraps his arm around his abdomen and pulls him back down into his lap.

"Let go." He states firmly. There's no need for this to get out of hand. He's had this happen before.

"You need my cock in you… Deep… You want it…"

"Get off!" He pushes away but he's not letting up. He can't get away from him.

"See you like it. Wiggle's…" He man laughs. "You'll wiggle with my cock in you… Be screaming…"

"Fuck off." He throws his elbow back around, it hits hard enough that the blokes stunned. He scrambles up.

"You little shit." The man punches him, he hears a crack which is properly his cheekbone. With him stunned the man grabs him, pushes him into the wall and presses his lips against his, using his tongue to try and get his mouth open. He seals his lips together and brings his knee up hard into the blokes groin, pushing him away.

Fuck this, he tries to get the taste of stale beer from his lips as he pushes his way out the door, past Frank who was meant to be keeping an eye, through the crowd into the back before the pain starts to radiate throughout the left side of his face. He catches a glimpse in the mirror. There's a split on his cheek, not big but the bloke must have had a ring on and it's cut the skin. There's a little blood running down his face.

"What the fucking hell was that?" Danny storms into the dressing room.

"He crossed the line." He dabs at his face with a towel.

"He was paying for it." Danny grabs his arm. "You go back in there…"

"No." He shrugs him off. He doesn't have to, he had every right to walk out.

"Paul." He struggles as Danny and his man grab him. "You're going back in. He wants more now."

He knows what that means.

"Get the fuck off!" He kicks out and throws his weight as soon as they let go of him and runs for the back door, pushing it open and running past the bouncer out onto the street. He needs to get away. Danny will send someone after him. He'd seen it before. He runs down the street bare feet slapping on the pavement then ducks into an alleyway and keeps going.

"Ste!" He collides with a man. "Whoa."

He's hyperventilating, he tries to fight him but he's too strong.

"Hey hey." The hold remains firm but soft. "It's Brian, it's Brian, easy."

The panic subsides a little but he's still fighting. They'll be coming.

"Let's get you inside come on." Brian forces him through the door into the thumping baseline, as soon as he's in he leans against the wall and slides to the floor, arms wrapped around himself as he tries to calm down.

"You're safe." Brian states, turning left then right, looking for someone. Anyone. "Doug go and get Mitzeee."

"Is he…"

"Mitzeee now." Brian shouts and he jumps.

By the time she arrives he's managed to regain his breathing. He's safe in the club. Danny wouldn't dare come in here, too many questions, too many people who know what's he's like.

"Come on let's get you in the office and cleaned up." Brian helps him to his feet and he follows her, feet aching and shaking from the adrenaline, from the dread of the what if's.

Simon comes out of the dressing room handing him a towel and a robe with a nod of understanding and a comforting smile. He knows that he's been lucky and what happened is plain to see, everyone will know where he's been working and most of them will be able to guess what happened without even needing him to say a word.

Mitzeee hands him a tumbler of what he assumes must be Brendan's whiskey and sits next to him while he stops shaking. She doesn't ask what happened just plonks the first aid box down and hands him a antiseptic wipe to clean the blood off his face and the dirt from his feet. There's a bit of glass that he hadn't noticed, he actually a little surprised that it wasn't worse. It's not like the back alley is actually clean.

"I've got to get back downstairs but you take your time." She hands him the refilled glass and places it in his hands.

"Thanks." He sighs when she leaves and puts the drink down. He's left his bag at Danny's club. Wallet. Phone. Keys. Clothes. He drops his head into his hands.

He hears the door open as the music that's been barely there suddenly gets loud.

"Thought I made myself clear Steven." Brendan barks. "Out now." He looks up to find Brendan towering over him face like thunder then he softens to frowning looking over his face.

"I'm going yeah. Tell Mitz I'll be fine." He stands.

"Wait what happened to you?"

"You did." He snaps. "You ringing round tellin' people not to take us on."

"Steven…"

"It was a slip Brendan. A mistake. You didn't need to ruin my reputation." He reaches for the door handle at the same time Brendan presses his palm to the door keeping it shut.

"Chapter and verse."

He frowns.

"You've been working… I can see that. Where?" He shakes his head. This is his fault. "You're not leaving until you tell me?"

"Where do you get off eh? You're not my boss anymore. You're nothing to me. I don't owe you anything. You can't keep me here." He tries to pull the door. Brendan's stronger than him.

"Who hit you?" Brendan demands, angry. He can feel it. It's radiating off him.

"It's nothing to do with you."

"I thought it was all my fault... Who did this to you?"

"What are you going to do about it? You couldn't give a shit. Lads like me get what they deserve isn't that right? That's what blokes like you think isn't? Well isn't it?"

"Who?!" Brendan roars in his face and he steps back. His anger at Brendan vanishes and a pit forms in his stomach. His anger had gotten the better of him and he'd pushed at Brendan without realising that he was in no position to face that kind of rage.

"Just let me go yeah."

Brendan leans back against the door, crosses his arms, head low, he see's him swallow.

"Who? I'll find out Steven."

"Some mate of Danny's?"

"Huston? You went to work for Danny Huston?"

"He was the only one that would take me on thanks to you."

Brendan shakes his head. Glares at him with a viciously.

"Don't look at me like that you left me no choice."

"And what were you doing for him then? What kind of sordid little extra's…"

"You know what fuck you. I don't give extra's. I don't sell my body right. Whatever you've got in that head about me you're wrong."

"Am I now?"

"Yeah, dead wrong. Now let me go."

"Where?"

"Home."

Brendan takes a few moments, purses his lip then flicks them out. It's like a switch has flicked and all of a sudden the angers gone, the intimidation. Brendan's all soft lines and kind eyes.

"Looking like that? You'll get done for soliciting. No. I'll take you home. Least I can do."

He nods. He hasn't got money for a taxi.

"Here." Brendan offers him his suit jacket off the back of his chair. "Walker will be crying if you take his robe."

He only remember that he doesn't have his keys when Brendan pulls up in front of the flat. It's nearly four in the morning. He doesn't want to wake the kids this early.

"What's wrong?"

"I left my bag when I ran."

"No keys." Brendan nods in understanding.

"It'll be fine I'll wake Ames she'll let me in." He fiddles with the jacket sleeves for a moment. She's going to fly off the handle. "Thanks." He pulls the jacket off and hands it over.

"I'll wait."

"You don't…"

"I'll wait."

He shivers as he gets out the car. He tarmac's freezing on his bare feet. He hopes the neighbours don't see him although they shouldn't. Doesn't look good rocking up in just lycra shorts after being dropped off in a dead flash car with a cut on his cheek and the start of a black eye.

He knocks on Amy's bedroom window. Jumping up and down to try and keep himself warm. Come on Ames. He knocks any louder and Leah will wake up. Come on… Finally the curtain twitches and he waves at her.

"It looks really bad." Amy states voice tight with anger as she hands him a cup of coffee. He tried eating cereal but chewing hurt so he'd given up after the first mouthful. "You should press charges. Get him locked up."

"I did worse to him."

"You were provoked."

"Ames."

"You never going back." He knows he's not. He decided that around the same time Danny started shouting at him, everything that happened after that had just cemented it. "You better ring Janet."

"I'm going to work."

"You're going to hospital for an x-ray."

"So they'll tell us it's broken and to take pain killers. I'm not sitting around for six hours to get told what I already know."

"Ste…"

A knock at the door cuts her off.

"You get that I'll make sure the kids are ready for Dad."

He sighs and wonders to the door. Another knock.

"Alright." He calls taking the latch off. "Brendan? What are you doing here?" He shivers against the cool breeze.

Brendan lifts up his bag.

"Present from Danny. Everything's there."

"How did you get that?"

"I went and asked nicely." His tone suggests there was no nicely about it. "That looks nasty." Brendan raises his hand towards his face then stops and puts it back down.

"Daddy!" Lucas rushes to him and grabs his leg, takes on look at Brendan and hides behind his legs.

"Who is it?" Amy comes carrying Lucas' coat. With Leah at her heels.

"Amy this is Brendan Brady he was just dropping off my bag." He takes the coat off her and kneels down in front of Lucas who shakes his head when he tries to put his coat on.

"You're the one that made Ste work for that bas…"

"Ames." She always telling him not to swear in front of the kids. He finally gets Lucas' coat on and zipped. "You better go or you'll be late." He kisses Leah and Lucas as Amy heads out the door. "Sorry. Thanks for getting that for me." He didn't know how he was going to get it back. He was half contemplating just leaving it. It wasn't worth seeing Danny about it. "I've got to get ready for work…" He shuffles slightly. He doesn't want to invite Brendan in the place is a disaster zone of toys, he knows how much he already looks down on him.

"I'll let you get on."

Janet looks at him like he should have been locked up for something. Like he's a criminal and he'd started whatever had happened. He ignores her and gets on with his job which is what she's paying him for. He pops pain killers at a rate of knots as his cheek throbs.

"Take your break outside I don't want you scaring the customers away."

He wonders along to the park and sits on a bench sipping on some soup since that's the only thing that he doesn't have to chew.

"Steven. She told me I'd find you here."

"You my stalker or something?"

"I wanted to offer you a job. Bar work."

"Not really my thing." Doesn't pay enough. "Like my pay in fifties."

"And stuffed down your shorts."

"You take a cut. So really I'm stuffing fifties in your pants aren't I?"

"You want the job or not?"

"I'm not a barman." He's never pulled a pint in his life.

"You really want to have men slobbering all over you instead?"

"I do what I do for my kids to give them all the stuff I never had." He's not ashamed for what he does to make money.

"No private rooms. Floor and stage only."

"I thought you didn't want lads like me working for you." He can't believe that Brendan's decided just like that after all the bother he'd caused for him to offer him the same job back.

"I've changed my mind."

"You feel guilty cos it was your fault I nearly…"

"You done busting my balls here Steven?" Brendan exclaims in frustration. "Do you want to come back or not?"

Yes. He wants to go back to a club where he knows everyone and he's safe. But his pride's been hurt.

"I'll think about it."

Brendan laughs at him and shakes his head.

"You don't want the job I'll find someone else."

"Alright, yeah I'd like to come back."

"You come back the day you're black eyes gone." He nods and Brendan turns to leave.

"Thanks." He calls after him.

"You're welcome."

He walks up the steps to the office a week and a half later. The bruise had been stubborn to go and he knows that Brendan wasn't going to accept less than full clear face.

"Welcome back." Is all Brendan says before he gestures to the door for him to go.

He knows that he's not going to get to private performances which makes it easier in a way. He knows that it's not going to happen so he doesn't hold any hope of it happening. He does group dances, partners people for duets, he makes good money. Once and a while he catches Brendan watching him but he watches everyone and he'd made his feeling's clear when he'd fired him whatever attraction for him, nothing is going to happen. It's difficult to ignore it especially when he's close but he lets it go. He's never been one for chasing pipe dreams. He knows he'd never be good enough for a man like Brendan. He's surrounded constantly by ripped oiled bodies and desperate rich men. He could have any one of them.

"You're so tiny." The bloke groans as he spirals his arse over his hard on. "There, ah." The bloke grips his hips a little tighter and pushes him down harder, more friction. "Ah. Christ. Fuck." He tries not to laugh as the man comes in his pants. He gets an extra hundred in tip as he leaves him to clean himself up.

"Another satisfied customer." Brendan nods towards the man as he goes to the toilets.

"Aim to please." He counts the cash out of his shorts and hands it to Jacob collecting the drinks for the table in the bottom corner and flashing Brendan a grin.

He takes his break after a stage dance, wondering up to the balcony to watch Dodger performing a new routine that he had been banging on about.

"You enjoy it don't you." Brendan states shocking him as he leans his elbows next to him. "Men under your spell… The very definition of a cock-tease."

"I wouldn't be good at it if I didn't enjoy it." He replies looking at him. He's far more interesting. He's can't work him out completely. He does things that he doesn't expect. He's kind to people then horrible. He gets into fights even throws the first punch and he acts as a diplomat to calm a situation.

"You're certainly good at it." He feels a blush rise up his neck at the compliment. "Why work at that café?"

"I'm training to be a chef."

Brendan nods and walks along to the office shutting the door.

He does that a lot as well. Asks random questions. Compliments him. Gives him the cold shoulder as well. He'll go to talk to him and get dismissed like a naughty school kid.

Saturday's bring in the most customers from the straight stags whose mates want to embarrass him to the regulars to the clubbers who are just horny as hell. It's the night of most trouble too.

He gets grabbed more than once. The closer to midnight the worse it gets. Jacob has to step in with one bloke.

He dances to Supermassive black hole with Dodger and Jack, both of them all over him, sliding their hands all over him. It's meant to play out as two big blokes wanting him and he's a virgin overawed by it or at least that was what Jack said when he'd given him the choreography, he was always a bit serious about it. He has to work hard not to crack up as he and Dodger are meant to be faux kissing and Jack knocks him into fleeting contact. He gets on his knees half way through looking up at them pretending to beg for attention, crawling up their bodies as he get up he catches Brendan watching them. Completely fixed on them, he misses a step but catches up. Jack smacks his arse.

"Concentrate." He growls at him.

He's got Jack behind him, Dodger in front and they're all over him but other than hands and a couple of times legs there's no real contact it looks like there is from more than two feet away. It's just a dance.

He gets a load of requests after it so do Jack and Dodger.

He's called over to a rowdy bunch, there's a lot of them sat around a table. He smiles sweetly at them.

"It's for me lovely. Come get me off." He's young, loud and drunk.

"Pull your chair back please." He needs more room than he's got. The man's in the middle of the group.

He barely gets started before his friends start pawing at him.

"Hands off." He states, keeping it friendly.

One of them pings the back of his shorts.

"Don't do that." He states firmly. He looks to Ray who steps closer. This is going to kick off. He knows it is because he can't have them all molesting him.

"Settle down gents." Ray states.

They stop it for a few seconds but are back on him again.

"Enough." He demands.

"You are warned gentlemen." Ray says and he stops completely moving until they settle down then starts again. He shakes his head. They aren't going to behave. Ray encourages him to continue. He puts his arm on the man shoulder and leans back and one of his mates leans over and kisses him. Before he even knows what's happening it's all kicking off around him. He tries to get between the chairs to get out of it.

"My office now." Brendan pulls him over out from the middle and sends him away with a venomous glare.

He shakes his head all the way to the back. He doesn't bother stopping to get his hoodie. There's no point it's not his fault it was them lot who refused to behave. He looks over the balcony to see them just leaving. He lets himself into the office and leans against the desk.

"Trouble just follows you around Steven." Brendan slams the door.

"Wasn't my fault." He jumps to his feet. "I was trying to keep a lid on them but they wouldn't…"

"I know." Brendan stops him in his tracks. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be? It happens all the time." He shrugs. "That it? Can I go now?"

"You got them all riled up, give the room a few minutes to calm down. Drink?"

"Not allowed am I. My boss says I can't drink while I'm working." Maybe Brendan trying to trick him.

"That only applies when it's not me offering."

"Oh right. Water please."

"I've got the finest Whiskey and you want water?"

"Like to keep a clear head."

"Very wise." Brendan pours himself a tumbler of whiskey and hands him a bottle of water from the side.

"Thanks." He says and pulls his arms around himself realising the state of his undress under Brendan's gaze. He doesn't know why it affects him so badly. He's got blokes looking at him like they want to fuck him blind and it doesn't register. One glance from Brendan and he feels inadequate.

"Can't believe I go back to college in two weeks. Be dead weird. Looking forward to it though."

"Two weeks?" Brendan frowns. "I thought you were leaving next Saturday."

"I am. I want to spend a bit of time with the kids maybe take them somewhere been a bit of an absent Dad recently."

"They're too young to realise."

"Properly but I know."

There's a knock at the door and Simon walks in.

"Brendan can I have a word."

"I better be getting back anyway. Don't want to get in trouble do I?"

"Go on but take a break before you go back out onto the floor." Brendan states.

"Will do." He gives Simon a brief smile as he walks out.

He doesn't see Brendan before he leaves the club and it pains him. He wanted to thank him. For all they'd had a rough start he'd gotten to like him and his ways but he shrugs it off.

Catering College is a world away from the club and he spend have his time lying about what he got up to in the summer. He's not ashamed of being a dancer but he knows that he'd never hear the end of it if any of his class mates found out.

It's different going back and having a placement. Having to work in a restaurant four days a week and only spending two in the classroom.

His tutor fixes him up with a hotel in town, excellent reputation, and great reviews. No one told him the Head Chef was off his tits. He forgets how many times he dodges hot pans and nearly loses a finger in the first week. By the second getting shouted at is just standard and it doesn't intimidate him half as much as some people he's worked for.

Doug invites him on a night out half way through term when they both get a night off and he catches up with the going's on and who's left, who's come back. He asks tentatively about Brendan.

"He's got a family in Ireland. Wife, two kids, his sister was over she was a riot… Nearly caused one actually."

"Brendan's got a wife?" How did he not know… He hadn't asked. Brendan knew loads about him but he knew next to nothing about Brendan.

"Ex-wife... Did you know he was seeing Simon?"

"What? No. When was this?"

"Almost since he bought the place. I saw them on night leaving together. Never thought anything of it but Jack saw them too. Not a surprise really I mean they were always all over each other."

He can't remember them ever being all over each other. Talking yeah. But nothing more. Jealousy stabs at him. Disappointment. That he'd… Well he hadn't thought anything would happen with Brendan but he'd thought about it enough in the weeks since he'd left to be hurt that Brendan hadn't said anything. Although it wouldn't be something that Brendan would want known. Favouritism and politics would start. He'd seen it before mostly at Danny's where the new flavour of the week would get all the highest paying customers without even being requested.

He shrugs it off.

"Least I know for when I go back."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the amazing reviews.

I've had to split this again. Properly going to be 3 or 4 chapters. I'm terrible for faffing around with things if I don't post them. So sometimes I just have to post them to stop myself.

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He wonders along the metal gangway with half an eye on the stage where Jack is working the pole to a few of the early evening customers, slow steady nothing flash it still looks good. Minimum effort for maximum effect, what they were all looking for. The little short cuts that made their jobs easier. He knocks at the door and waits.

"Steven." Brendan states holding the door, the way his eyes flick over his face, what he could possibly if he let himself dare think that way be Brendan being pleased to see him again. "How are you?"

"Good thanks." He thought he had Brendan right in his head, the images that he could conjure up but he knows now that he'd missed things, that what he could imagine wasn't anywhere close to as good as the real thing. Not that it matters he reminds himself sharply.

"Something I can help you with?"

"I was wondering if it'd be alright to come back a week early, ignition went on the car…"

Brendan nods and rocks off the wall.

"Night only shifts?"

"I can do a few days as well."

"No café?"

"Janet got someone else for the Christmas rush." He shrugs. It wasn't like he could hold it against her. She had a business to run, she couldn't hold the job open for him when he could only commit to two weeks. "And Pablo wanted me to work all hours so I'm not at the hotel." Pablo wanted him to work ridiculous hours for pittance in the name of experience like he had been all term only without the college he'd be working seven days a week. He'd never see his kids and there was every chance he'd have been working Christmas day. He's not missing watching Leah and Lucas opening their presents to get shouted at no matter how much he might learn.

Brendan frowns at him a little.

"I've been working at the Altair."

"Good food." He can detect genuine appreciation in Brendan's tone and he wonders idly if he'd cooked for him at some point.

"Chef's a sadistic perfectionist bastard."

Brendan laughs a little, then strides around him to his desk and pushes the foam across.

"Need my ID?" He looks up from writing his name.

"Cute." Brendan gives him a sarcastic smile. "Do you need me to go through the rules?"

"No I think I can remember them."

"Indulge me."

"No drinking. No drugs. No boyfriends. No extra's. No leading on customers."

"Very good." Pat on the head, aren't you a good boy. He snorts a little and covers it with a cough.

"Any chance I'm going to be allowed to work the private rooms?" Any chance Brendan's going to let him do his job properly, trust him alone with customers, show him that he's realised that what happened didn't happen with everyone, or anyone. He had never kissed a customer in a private room. Why did he have to start with his boss? Just because he fancied him. He'd fancied loads of customers and never had that problem before. Hadn't let himself get carried away.

"I'd rather keep you where I can see you." Like he's some kid that doesn't know what he's doing but what did he expect? Brendan wasn't going to trust him after that kind of error.

"How are your kids?" Brendan asks.

"They're good… How are yours?" He can't help the bitterness that creeps into his tone.

"Common knowledge is it?"

"Just heard that's all." He shrugs. He doesn't want to drop anyone in it.

"They're very well thank you… Can you start tonight?"

"If you want me to?"

Brendan nods firmly and hands him the list of house rules. None have changed. It's just the done thing, he can't came ignorance when he'd signed them to say he'd read them.

"Welcome back."

He drops his bag into the dressing room on any piece of bench that's spare, checks the running order on the wall. Two stage dances. One with Dodger to Die another day. The other with Simon to I write sins not tragedies (remix) he sighs. So much for avoiding the complicated stuff.

He frowns at the weird atmosphere that seems to be surrounding him. He can't put a finger on it. There's just something off. A strain that isn't normally there.

He sees the reason as he walks in from the shower room. Tall, dark, well built, tanned. New. It always shifts the dressing room when a stranger enters. Especially one that will be going for a headliner from the look of him. He concentrates on getting his gear out of his bag and making sure that he has the right coloured shorts for the dances that he's meant to be doing.

"Are you new too?" He turns to face the man. "I'm Tom."

"Ste and no I'm not new." He's shaking with nerves and wringing his hands in stark contrast to the rest of the dressing room who are completely relaxed, reading magazines or chatting away. "First night?"

"Can you tell?"

"Yeah." It pretty obvious.

"Just don't want to mess up you know?" Tom sits down next to him with his eyes down. He looks around no one is paying the slightest bit of attention to the rookie's plight, just like it was when it was his first night.

"Confidence, eye contact and rhythm are all you need to think about." That's what he'd learned it all came down to.

"I can't even work the pole." Tom sighs.

"Are you doing pole work?" He hadn't done pole work on his first night, it had been weeks before he did that.

"No."

"So what are you worrying for?" He frowns. Why worry about doing something that he wasn't expected to do? He does the rounds asks how people are doing. Regains his middling position. Tom seems to have latched on to him. A little bit of kindness and now he was following him around. He wouldn't last long if he didn't find some self-confidence, the dressing room was not a place for the faint hearted, it required a thick skin and a sharp mouth at times.

"Two on stage Steven." Simon states and he frowns at him using his full name. Maybe Brendan was rubbing off on him in more ways than one. He ignores the jealousy that threatens to rise. He's got no right to be jealous. "Someone's popular with the right people."

"What's a matter Simon three not getting you enough?"

"Alright kitten put your claws away." Simon gives him a smug look, then looks over his shoulder, he glances Tom's right there. Simon narrows his eyes a fraction. "Careful who you cosy up to."

He shakes his head and lets it go. If Simon's in one which he seems to be he's not going to get into it over anything. There's no telling where it would end, although he's pretty sure he'd be the one out the door. Benefits of fucking the boss.

He goes to talk to Dodger about the routine, make sure he remembers it right or if anything's changed. He goes through a couple of moves on the backstage pole to make sure he can still get the grip right on a swing around.

"I'm so nervous."

He sighs and ignores him. He doesn't know how he's managed not to drop him by now. He's ignored him for nearly an hour. Finally Gary calls Tom out onto the floor and the dressing room settles back down.

"I give him an hour." Jack states putting down a ten pound note.

"Five." Harry puts down his ten.

"Two nights."

"A week."

"Two hours."

"Do you have to be mean?" Doug asks. "He's just like we were when we started out."

"And when we put the bets on for you it was for minuets not hours." Jack replies.

He can remember that. They'd all been out of pocket to JD who put Doug down to last three hours. He'd lasted eighteen months so far. It didn't mean anything. He knows that they gave him a week because even though he'd been shaking he'd still bitten back a few times.

He slides down to his knee's and Dodger takes control of his head, he looks over the crowd out of the corner of his eye checks to make sure that they're doing a decent job of keeping them happy. He makes eye contact with a middle aged suited man sitting by himself watching intently. Dodger taps the back of his head. He's got to keep focused. He runs his hands up the back of his legs from ankle to arse and falls back arching as he goes.

"That was amazing." Tom states. "How long have you been doing this?"

"A while." He replies.

"Ste table 9."

He leaves Tom standing there and heads out onto the floor.

He works the floor getting himself back into the swing of things. He starts slow and gives himself time to build up he may not get tipped as much for not giving his best early, he needs to pace himself as he gets used to doing it again.

"How's your shadow?" Brendan shocks him as he stands looking over the floor taking him break and avoiding Tom and his hundreds of questions. He's sick of him. He can't help him find whatever it is that he's looking for to be able to do this job.

He shrugs at Brendan.

"Seems to have taken a shine to you."

"I made the mistake of kindness." He sighs and rolls his shoulders to ease the tension that seems to have settled there.

"Dangerous." Brendan smiles a little.

He can see what he's looking at Tom working a bloke at a side table. He's too mechanical, too much about the moves.

"He's got a great body just hasn't got any feel for it." He picks at a few bits of peeling paint on the rail. "The bloke that taught me pole always said that you either have it or you don't and if you do have it you can be taught… He could fake it with some tricks."

"I always prefer the real thing." Brendan looks him over. He wishes he'd stop doing that. Flirting with him, tempting him when there's nothing on offer. "Breaks over... Money to be made."

"Yes boss." He gives a mock salute and heads back down pulling his hoodie off as he goes.

"How about you meet me later?" The man groans in his ear as he slides himself up and rocks back.

"I don't think so." He keeps moving, slower, harder.

"You know you want to." The man winks at him then gasps as he speeds up.

"Time." Gary states. He takes the money and the very generous tip. He thanks him and Gary directs him to another man sitting by himself. Colin. One of his regulars. Colin likes to unwind from his call centre job by having a lap dance and bitching about his day. Tonight though he's more interested in the lap dance than he usually is.

"You do it just right… That." Colin sits up a little taller when he rolls his hips slowly then pushes forward. "Oh, that is why they should have neon signs whenever you're working."

"Might not get much of my time everyone knows I'm here, there's only one of me."

"There… Harder… Yeah, maybe no sign just a text or some… something."

"Time."

The man that offered him the meet after work reappears at his side a little later when he's waiting for a drinks order to be put up for a table that he had been working.

"How about I give you a pass to my friend's club and when you get finished you can come by?"

"No thanks."

"You'd enjoy it I guarantee."

"He said no." Brendan states putting a couple of drinks on his tray. "Now go and sit down."

"Think about it." The man states and presses the ticket into the side of his shorts giving Brendan a look before walking away.

He pulls the ticket out of his shorts and looks it over, he knows the club from some of the lads in the back. It's good apparently. He wouldn't know. Between the kids, college and saving money the pub is his biggest night out.

"You going?" Brendan asks.

"Nope." He puts the ticket on the bar.

"Good you can do better."

"Ames says that every time I get dumped." He sighs leaning back against the bar.

"They don't know what they're missing."

"Suppose you would say that." He's fucking a dancer. He nods to Gary as he catches his gesture. "Back to the grind." He walks away, he can't help a quick glance over his shoulder. Brendan's looking at him but he looks confused instead of just watching his arse like he usually did. He had no problem with that, most the men in the club were checking out one another. It always made him feel good. The idea that maybe Brendan did actually fancy him back if only a little bit.

His thighs ache as he puts the last of his stuff in his bag. He'd had a good night. A few hundred quid and two phone numbers he wasn't going to call, a ticket to a club.

"Ste." Tom jogs to catch up with him as he walks down the back alley so he can get back out onto the street far enough away not to get hassle.

"You survived then." Last time he had seen him he was entertaining Malcom, a regular that had to be told to sit on his hands most of the time but he'd seen Tom letting him get a little more hands on than he would ever have let him.

"Yeah, got into it. Look I know there's this dressing room thing… but I was wondering if you'd be up for giving me a few lessons. Tonight on stage you were brilliant and I want to be able to do that…"

"Look…"

"Please I just want to get better. I know I've got loads to learn but no one will even speak to me and I know you don't like me." He rolls his eyes and sighs.

"I don't not like you, I'm just trying to work."

"So help me and I'll stop pestering you. Please. Jack's great, he's taught me loads of moves… A couple of hours just give me some pointers. I talked to Mitzeee and she was really keen, said she'd pay you."

He's trapped then and Tom's not as innocent and in need of help as he's making out. Talking to Mitzeee before asking him put him in a bit of a tight spot. If he doesn't help it won't just annoy her, it'll piss off the dressing room. Everyone went to everyone for help or advice, he didn't show willing to help out the rookie when he asked him and it's one of those unwritten rules he's breaking. However competitive it is.

"A couple of hours when?"

"So you'll help me."

"Yeah, when?"

"I wasn't sure you'd go for it so I didn't sort anything but I'll let you know. Here, I'll give you my number."

Tom arranges with Mitzeee to use the club in the morning before opening, Jim one of the barmen lets him in through the back. He sits on the stage for a bit checks his phone to see a message from Tom that he'll be twenty minutes late, his bus was cancelled. He rolls his shoulders. He may as well get warmed up and use the free pole time to practice before Tom expects him to be able to show him how it's done.

He drops his jogging bottoms, he can't work the pole without being able to grip. He stretches himself out and again using the pole to add more pull to his muscles. He starts slow, a few swings around getting his arms used to taking the tension, his weight then hooks his ankle and swings a few more times. Once he's got himself going and working he starts to add dips and flicks. It's strange working without the music from the speakers, with only the staff radio and the hum of the hoover to give him a rhythm to work from but it's freeing, different music with no set moves that he's had to learn.

He slides down the pole with his back to it, opens his legs at the bottom of the crouch and brings them back together as he rises. It doesn't feel quite right so he does it again but this time flicks his hips as he rises. He swings around using his calf to keep him a few inches from the ground wraps his arm around the pole, he hooks his thigh around making sure that he's secure before he rolls back. He lets go with one hand to check that he has the grip before he let's go with the other arching his back, feeling the tension through his abs. He presses his arse hard into the pole and lets himself lean further back until his fingers touch the stage. He looks towards the seats as he would in a performance to find Brendan looking at him, the shock of being watched when he didn't realise he was especially not by his boss makes him twist to the side putting his palm down to touch the floor so he doesn't fall off. He pushes up through his arm and unhooks his legs.

"I'm waiting for Tom, I was just…"

"Anne told me. Nothing better to do?" Play with his kids, do the Christmas cake for Mike that Amy insisted he do as well as one for themselves, do the house work. He had a list of things he could be doing rather than this.

"Plenty but he asked and I need the practice."

"Didn't look like it from here."

"Yeah well I can't put a hand down on stage." It looks wrong and lazy especially when he knows how it should look and he wants to do it right.

"Sorry I'm late." Tom strides in without the good grace of looking rushed. Brendan walks away. Conversation over then.

He doesn't get very far with Tom, he knows that he hasn't got it and when he tries to teach him the tricks that he's picked up on how to fake it that doesn't help. He doesn't know if Tom's expecting miracles or something because if he is then he's out of luck. He'll properly get away with not being any good because of his body and it makes him a little bitter about things. He has to be good at what he does because he doesn't have the muscles to use as a distraction, people will pay just to touch Tom's body.

He doesn't bother going home after they've finished. It seems pointless to go home only to come back a few hours later so he sits in the dressing room with the radio on playing a game on his phone.

"Thought you had gone." Brendan says as he stands in the doorway.

"No point."

"I'm going for lunch do you want anything?"

"I'm fine."

"I'll need to lock the doors."

He rolls his eyes and sits up.

"You want to kick me out then just say that. I'll go and get a coffee or something." He grabs his wallet out of his bag. He walks towards the door but Brendan stands in his way. "Thought you wanted me to go." There's a second when he thinks that Brendan's going to say something but then he steps aside.

"I just can't work him out." He says as he's looking through a few different pair of shorts.

"Why do you want to? He's our boss." Doug replies. "How cares? Suppose you would be bothered though."

"Why's that?"

"Well you are the only one he won't let work the back rooms after whatever happened that made him fire you." He knows Doug's digging on behalf of the entire dressing room. They all want to know what he did to the boss to get fired then barred from the back rooms.

He doesn't say reply and Doug catches on that he's not going to get the story.

"Those." Doug states pointing to the black shorts. "You need to class yourself up a bit."

"I am classy."

Doug snorts.

"Look at what you're wearing."

"What's wrong with it?"

"You earn hundreds a night and you come out shopping in a track suit."

"It's comfortable." He shrugs. He doesn't spend his money on clothes he's got more pressing things to buy like Amy's Christmas present. He'd only let Doug drag him into the Men's clothes shop because he'd dragged him around the perfume shop.

"Store security have been tracking us since the door they think you're a shop lifter."

"That's their problem."

"Those and I think those." Doug pulls another pair of shorts down from the rail. "They'll suit you."

He looks at the light blue shorts.

"Damp spots are going to take a bit of covering." He always lap dances in darker colours.

"I've got a pair. We'll match when we dance together."

"Er no." It's bad enough people mistake them without having the problem of the requests being difficult to sort out, all physical descriptions have the bouncers trying to work out who the customer wants. It's why he started making sure that when he dances with Doug he makes sure that the tattoo on his hip is on show. Made it easier.

He buys a pairs of the black ones though. He's never really worn black for work before. It'll be something new for the regulars if nothing else.

"Ste Mr Carter would like you tonight." He frowns at Mitzeee as he lays out his stuff on his bit of bench. He knows that name.

"Stock broker, tattoo on his wrist… Always asks for you." She states and he catches on. The one that likes him to sit next to him between dances, pouring his drinks for him and basically being his personal dancer for the night, pays him very well, his tips are incredible.

"Yeah fine." It's not like he can turn that kind of money down and he quite likes Jerome, he's alright. Young, successful mostly lonely. Too busy for a relationship so he doesn't bother having them. He'd told him that more than once.

She crosses him off the stage list and rearranges who is dancing with who while he pulls on his new black shorts, slips them on and waits to get called through.

"Then I was in Hong Kong, Australia, New York… Don't think I've stayed in one place longer than a month for the last year." Jerome states as he fills his glass for him. Only the best champagne. He always asks where he's been. Takes the chance to see how the other half live the ones that don't need to worry about bills or that taking a holiday would break the budget although most of Jerome's travelling he knows is for work.

"How's college?"

He talks about working in the Altair, about the skills he's learning. He knows that Jerome likes that. In the same way Jerome's life is exotic to him, his life interests him. The simple things. Jerome's a great believer in them. He doesn't tell him about his kids or anything too private because he's still just a customer.

"Your boss says no private room, have you been naughty?"

"Always." He smiles and Jerome places a hand around behind him tapping the beat on the sofa behind his head.

"Dance for me." Jerome states pulling out a wad of cash and placing it beside him. "Slow."

He's already danced for him twice so he cuts out a bit of the tease and gives him the more personal, closer dance, placing his knees either side of his, slow sway of his hips, letting his hands touch his neck, shoulders, chest. Taking his time, Jerome asks to start placing the notes in his shorts, dragging it out… Jerome knows better than to ping his shorts, instead he places the note against his abdomen and gently presses it into place.

"Having fun Steven?" Brendan's voice is tight as he gets to the bar for another bottle of champagne. He pushes his money into Gary's hand as subtly as he can.

"Another ice bucket and a fresh glass." He adds to Lily as she brings him the bottle.

"I asked if you are enjoying yourself." Brendan demands his attention.

He shrugs. There are worse things he can be doing for this kind of money.

"Yeah, he's always alright with me." He replies, offering Lily a smile of thanks.

"You two look very cosy."

"I'm keeping a high paying customer happy. Thought you'd be pleased."

Brendan taps the bar and walks away. He rolls his eyes and gets Gary to carry the ice bucket while he takes the bottle and the glass over.

Every time he looks towards the bar after that Brendan is glaring daggers at him, he shakes it off and ignores it.

"Try some." Jerome offers him the glass.

"Can't. Boss won't let us drink."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"I can't." He pushes the glass away from his mouth.

"Just a little. Let me spoil Cava for you."

"Can't I'd rather drink larger anyway." Jerome laughs into his neck. He gently pushes him off a little. Jerome's past tipsy and heading for just plain drunk. He doesn't let go, laughs and pulls him closer.

"Problem here?" Gary asks. He looks up. It is and it isn't. It is because Jerome's getting too hands on, it isn't because he knows there's no harm in it.

"Book Mr Carter a taxi. Steven my office." Brendan snaps the last at him.

He sighs and stomps up the office. He doesn't know why Brendan is constantly picking on him. Constantly jumping in when he's got things under control.

"You just can't stick to the rules can you Steven." Brendan slams the door so hard he jumps.

"He was drunk. We were going to sort it."

"I've heard that once too often… Don't lead the customers on."

"I wasn't." He exclaims.

Brendan shakes his head at him.

"I wasn't."

"Go home."

"What?"

"Go home." The way Brendan growls at him makes him sure that he's not going to get anywhere on changing his mind.

"Can I have my money then?"

Brendan glares at him. He's not leaving without his money. Brendan calls Gary up and takes the wedge of cash off him. He watches in fascination and growing excitement at the kind of Christmas he can give Leah and Lucas with the money.

"Fifteen hundred minus my cut." Brendan states pushing the notes into a brown envelope.

He beams as he flicks through the money.

"Goodnight Steven." Brendan states coldly and he remembers that he was being sent home like some kind of naughty school kid. He resists the urge to argue with him about it again. He knows he's not going to get anywhere. He doesn't know why Brendan has such a low opinion of him.

"Heading home?" Tom asks as he's packing his bag up.

"Yeah."

"I need some regulars like yours." Tom points to the envelope.

He sighs and double checks he has everything. He stuffs the money into the bottom of his bag and zips it up. He says goodnight to everyone on his way out and heads towards the back alley so he can cut across and back onto the main street further away from the club. He doesn't need the hassle of anyone recognising him.

As he walks he feels someone walking behind him before he hears the footsteps echoing around him. He shrugs it off until he looks up towards the main street to find two people walking towards him then the bad feeling starts to creep in. He has a look over his shoulder and the person behind him stops.

Shit.

A car pulls up at the curb at the top off the alley.

"Did you think I'd forgotten about you?" Danny calls from the car.

He turns to run and the man grabs him around the waist he kicks at his shins and takes off as soon as he loosens his grip he runs as fast as he can back the way he came, as he rounds the corner he pushes off again on the final sprint to the back door. Brad's not there, he bangs on the door as hard as he can and Simon opens the door. He pushes them both inside and slams the door.

"What's going on?"

"Danny." He pants. "Where's Brendan?"

Simon locks the door and goes into the side room calling for Brad as he runs along the corridor and up the stairs.

He bangs his head against the wall behind him.

"Are you hurt?" Brendan demands from along the corridor storming towards him.

"No I'm fine." Brendan drops down in front of him and looks him over. "I'm fine." He insists.

"Ste does Danny have your address?" Simon asks leaning against the wall.

"No." He always gave Danny his old address. He didn't want a bloke like that knowing where he lived. Where his kids lived. He knew enough about him when he went to work there that he didn't trust him an inch. "I always lied."

"Knew you weren't just a pert arse." Simon smiles at him then turns his attention to Brendan. "I think it was the new boy."

"He still here?" Brendan demands.

"Nope. Left just after Ste."

"Find him."

"I want you to wait in the office. Don't leave until I come and get you." Brendan looks him in the eye until he nods, the squeezes his shoulder before he starts walking.

He sends Amy a text to make sure she knows that he's going to be late. He doesn't want her worrying. He leans back in the chair and taps the arms of the chair until he can't stand just sitting about. He heads out on the gangway and sits with his back against the wall to watch the last dredges of the stage performances. He feels easier where he can see people and use them as a distraction.

"Do you ever do as you're told?" Brendan offers his hand and pulls him up. "We can't find Tom. Danny's long gone by the looks of it. We think that he was after your money."

"Then why didn't he just mug me? Why did he have a car and three blokes trying to catch me?" He thought that Danny would let it go. He thought Brendan had made him.

"Don't worry about it." Easy for him to say. "Come on you're staying at mine. Can't lead Danny back to your kids." He nods. Danny's not allowed anywhere near his kids or Amy or his home. "Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." No, but he's better than he could have been.

He fiddles with his lip while Brendan drives them through the streets.

"Why was he after me?" He knows that there's more going on than just his money.

"Don't worry about it." Brendan replies.

"I do though… I don't want Danny…"

"I said don't worry about it." Brendan snaps and he shuts up deciding that looking out the window is the safest option.

"This it?" He frowns as Brendan flicks his keys out of his pocket. The house isn't what he was expecting. He thought Brendan would own a big house or massive flat. The attached house maybe in a better part of town but it's still a bit, understated. Brendan struck him as flash. The car. His attitude. He didn't think he would a house so normal.

"Spare room upstairs on the left, bathroom straight across. Don't wait up."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to have a word with Huston."

"Brendan…" The look in Brendan's eye stops him asking him not to. They both know that Danny's dangerous. He swallow. "Don't get hurt."

Brendan frowns at him. Then nods and strides out the door.

He sighs and looks around. It's so tidy. All clean lines. A place for everything. Not even a newspaper out. There's a few framed photo's on the side. He gives them a brief glance before he gets a shiver up his back. He's prying when he shouldn't however curious he is. He sits on the sofa. There's no point going to bed when he knows he won't rest until he knows he can go home. All that falls by the ways side as he curls up with the throw from the back of the sofa to wait.

"Steven." He jerks awake to be greeted by Brendan. There's blood running from a cut on his temple but other than that he appears to be okay.

"Are you alright?" He pulls down the sleeve of his hoodie and presses it to the cut, pressing his hand into his neck to keep him steady. He feels his heartbeat under his fingers, strong, a little fast. He checks to make sure his eyes are clear, there's no concussion then turns his attention back to the cut.

"I'm fine." Brendan says low and rough.

"Danny?"

"Not so fine." He shivers a little. He doesn't know what he was expecting when Brendan went to see him it wasn't like men like Danny and Brendan used the police. They sorted things outside the law. "You don't need to worry about him. You can go home."

"Thanks." His fingers stroke the back of Brendan's neck of their own volition. To be this close to him again being allowed to touch him.

"Sorry I…" The press of lips against his own cuts him off. Brendan pulls back, looks over his face, leans forward again and takes his bottom lip between his own kissing it softly, slowly as starts to pull back again he follows using the hand on Brendan's neck, pulling him in, opening his mouth and running his tongue long Brendan's bottom lip until he takes control. Tongue invading his mouth. The intensity burns in his chest, the lust bubbles and boils under his skin. He curses and crawls at his shirt. The need for skin, close contact driving him. Brendan gets his t-shirt off first, pinning his wrists with it in his grasp. The procession, scorching his skin as he kisses his chest.

He aches as Brendan slides his hand down and fondles his rapidly hardening cock. Then stops and kisses him hard. He grinds up into Brendan's hand desperately needing friction.

"What a pretty mess I'll make of you." Brendan whispers against his lips then traces them with his tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for reviewing.

Sorry it's taken so long to update. I learnt a valuable lesson: never ever leave a sex scene mid way because I will put off writing it until I make myself. That was the dely. I've been avoiding it.

* * *

He rises up, arching through his spine against the pressure on his wrists to kiss him hooking his leg around his waist, pulling him down onto him. Brendan's shirt buttons catch on his chest, press into his skin, he pushes against Brendan hands, the pressure relents, he throws his t-shirt to the floor and shoves at Brendan's shoulder to get a little room, enough to get his fingers on those buttons. Brendan's seen him in barely anything, little shorts that hide almost nothing while he's been strutting around in his suits… The more his fingers reveal the stronger the urge to rip the shirt, get it off, out of the way. It feels like it takes an age to get to that last button, to push it aside. He pulls his mouth away from Brendan's lips and drags a kiss across his jaw down his neck, stubble burning his cheek while his hands map Brendan's torso. Learning him as he dragged his fingers over his skin, trying to find all those places that gave him pleasure, where he likes to be touched.

Brendan grips his thigh tight and pulls him up until he's astride him and clutches his arse smiling against his lips before claiming them and he battles straight back getting his hands under the shirt and digging his nails into Brendan back. Brendan growls biting at his jaw as he tries to get his jeans down he moves his hands off Brendan's neck and slides them down between them to undo the button.

"Get them off."

No finesse, no teasing he drops his jeans and boxers at the same time to the floor while Brendan takes care of his own clothes, stands… He's never seen anything he's wanted more. Defined lines of muscle, lean, the chest hair, treasure trail, the startling contrasts, the tattoo's, black ink on pale skin… The way he looks at him, blown pupils full of want.

There's nothing like being a person's focus. Nothing felt quite like Brendan's attention. The intensity of it. No one's ever looked at him like he does, he's almost overawed with it.

Brendan pushes him into the cushions, he falls easily doesn't even have time to bounce before Brendan's on top of him. Between his thighs. He shifts his hips, thrusts up as Brendan grinds their dicks together, pre-come slicking the way. He pants into his mouth as their lips drag over one another, Brendan pushes his fingers between them encourages him to take them in his mouth. He sucks on them, hollowing his cheeks then laves his tongue over them.

Brendan withdraws them, groaning as his tongue replaces them.

At the first brush against his hole he rolls his hips up higher presses his heel into Brendan's spine, slipping against the sweat on his skin.

Brendan looks into his eyes as he presses in, brief kisses feather light against his lips. The electricity jolts through his body and he moans long and hard as Brendan finds his prostate and circles it then adds another finger, stretching.

"Come on, come on." He groans, jerking up.

Brendan reaches over the side pulling a condom and a little sachet of lube out of one of his pockets. Quickly ripping the packet, putting it on and drizzling the lube. He watches memorized by the sight of him. Stroking himself, looking at him, he gets his elbows under himself, sits up and takes him in hand. Brendan closes his eyes and hisses out a breath as he works him firmly.

Raking his fingers through the hair on his chest with his other hand, looking up at him with hooded eyes and seeing the lust flare in his eyes and he pulls him forward until he's straddling him again. He positions himself, presses the head against his hole.

It's been a while and Brendan's bigger than he's taken before, the excitement rises in his gut, the nerves stutter to life then fall away as Brendan kisses him through the first long dragging thrust in.

His breath catches in his chest, faltering…

The fullness takes his breath away, to have him so deep inside him, the tiny little thrusts that Brendan can't stop even while he adjusts, kisses peppered against his collar bone and neck, hands sweeping his back.

He uses Brendan's shoulders for balance as he rises up then slides back down.

Feeling it so deep. Wanting it deeper. Needing more. To chase the high, the pleasure until it becomes single minded desperation. He rides him hard, finding a rhythm then losing it, the frustration is almost unbearable.

"Fuck. Ah fuck, please."

Brendan lifts and turns them, lifting his legs up on to his shoulders. The change of angle. The increase in speed has the pleasure rising, rising. Brendan wraps his hand around his cock and matches the pace of his thrusts then increases it until it's too much and he loses himself in it. The way Brendan is digging his fingers into his bare flesh, like he's trying to get into his skin, like close isn't close enough. Like there's no such thing. Even buried to the hilt isn't enough.

He cries out as he spills over Brendan's hand, organism rushes over him Brendan moves forward folding him as he goes, panting into the side of his cheek as his thrusts lose all rhythm, groaning into his ear as he comes.

He hisses as Brendan withdraws and lets his legs down, kissing him once the condom is dealt with. Slow and lazy roll of tongues and lips.

He could stay like that for days, kissing Brendan letting his fingers catch in his hair, smooth over shoulders, get lost in the contours and contrasts…

He jumps at the thud against the door. Three thuds that sound like the side of a fist rather than the wrap of knuckles.

"Brendan?" Brendan teases against him and swears. Simon.

"Shit." His brain catches up with him. He'd… Brendan… He remembers why this was wrong. Brendan and Simon. "Oh god…"

"Brendan?" Another three thuds.

"Get dressed." Brendan sighs. "Doesn't sound like he's going anywhere." As soon as Brendan's weights off him he rushes to pick his clothes off the floor and get them back on. Brendan doesn't rush, takes his time, pulls on his trousers on and dangles his shirt around his shoulder but doesn't button it up as he goes to the door. He tries to straighten himself out make it look less like he was as fucked as he felt. He tries to flatten his hair out but it's stuck out at all angles and the gels come out.

"Christ how long does it take you to open a fucking door?" He hears Simon ask before Tom is pushed through the doorway.

There's blood dripping down from what looks like a broken nose, a cut on his cheek, his clothes are dirty, a mix of blood and mud. He stops just in front of Brendan. Arm tight into his ribs.

"Danny's boys gave him a beating." Simon steps inside. "Seems he owes Danny money."

"Why did you bring him here?" Brendan starts buttoning his shirt.

"Thought you wanted to see him." Simon replies.

He catches the exact moment that Simon seems him. The change in stance. The slight widening of eyes. He looks away.

"I better go." He doesn't want anything to do with the fall out. Coward or just plain looking out for his own survival he's not bothered which, but he needs to go.

"You need a lift?" Brendan scratches the back of his head.

"No… I'll get the bus." He picks his bag up and steps around Tom and Simon as he hurries to the door.

"Steven..."

"I'll see you."

Oh Christ what was he thinking? He wasn't thinking and that was the problem again. There's just something about Brendan which turns his brain to useless mush, lets his desire run wild. He hadn't even thought about Simon.

There's no way he doesn't know what happened. Brendan all shirtless when he opened the door… Why couldn't he have just buttoned it up? Then it wouldn't have looked so obvious.

Although as he catches sight of himself in a house window, the state he's in… It was obvious. There was a patch of stubble burn on his neck, rubbed raw as he touches it the salt from his fingers makes it sting.

The smell of the living room, there would be no mistaking it.

He's surprised Simon didn't stop him leaving or punch him. But then he has no idea about their relationship, it could be open for all he knows. Maybe they don't consider it cheating on each other… He doesn't know and he doesn't want to know.

Brendan was off limits and he knew that and he'd still started it…

"Can you work tonight or not?" Mitzeee asks, irritated. He doesn't blame her. He's cried off the last three nights. "Ste if you want to quit early I'm not going to be pissed off, this messing around is what doing that."

He looks at the bills on the fridge, the presents already wrapped and under the tree. He still has the fifteen hundred from Jerome but that's not going to last. They'll be broke again if he doesn't go and do at least another two weeks at the club. The drawing next to the bills reminding him that his children don't deserve to suffer because he made another mistake.

He sucks in a breath and blows it out.

"I'll be in tonight."

It's the not knowing what to expect that has him walking around the block an hour before he's meant to start. Time he would usually spend in the dressing room relaxing but instead he walks around and wonders if Walker's going to hit him as he walks through the door or wait until the end of the shift. Leave him hanging, watching his back before he gives him what he deserves for sleeping with his boyfriend.

He's always had a massive streak of self-preservation in him. His childhood had seen to that, his adolescence only seemed to make it all the more obvious.

He gives himself until ten to, barely enough time to get ready, he can't afford to be late. Missing for three shifts and then late on his return… He can't see it going down well.

He can barely summon a smile for Brad as he passes. The wall of noise thuds into him, he keeps his head firmly down as he enters the dressing room sparing a glance towards Simon's seat but he's not there and he relaxes a fraction before the frustration bubbles. He'd rather get it over with.

He's done wrong. He deserves what he gets because he's not sorry. He won't even be able to promise Simon that he won't do it again. If Brendan kissed him again he knows that he wouldn't be able to resist kissing him back and he knows he wouldn't stop there. It had been good, better than good, better than he'd had with anyone before but it's how much better it could be that has his mind stuck and his imagination running wild.

He has one dance on stage. One dance with Dodger. He can see where Simon's name's been crossed off and his added.

He sleeps with his boyfriend and now he's stealing stage time… He should just cut the fuel line on his motorbike. Top it off.

"Ste." Gary calls him through onto the floor.

He looks for Simon as he walks towards the bar, glances up to the office and sees him with Brendan leaning on the railing. He bumps into a chair not watching where he's going. His eyes are drawn back to them, to Brendan who stares straight back, looking through him.

"Ste you working or you standing there all night? Table two." Gary states.

He swallows. He doesn't want to be here, he wants to run straight back into the dressing room grab his bag and go. He doesn't want to see them together, the jealousy that had flittered and fired returns with a vengeance and knowing that he has no right at all to be makes it worse.

"Ste move your arse."

He can't dance properly, can't give his attention to the man in front of him because it's on the other side of the room.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Mitzeee demands cornering him in the corridor.

"Nothing." He goes to get away and she grabs his arm, he shrugs her off.

"Get your head out of the clouds and back in the game or I'll send you home."

It's on the tip of his tongue to beg her to but his pride flares. He's not being sent home. He can do his job, he can provide for his children and put his mess of a personal life aside.

He runs his hands over Dodger's chest, put everything into his movements, every ounce of frustration into his hips, reveals in the attention from the crowd in the room acts like Dodger is everything he wants and loses himself in the bass, rises and falls with the music.

"Fuck I'm straight and you gave me a semi." Dodger smiles as they head back through the curtain.

Brendan is stood against the wall, arms crossed.

He swallows hard.

"Steven a word."

"I've got to…" Be anywhere but right here.

"I'm your boss you'll do as I say." Brendan demands and it sets him off. He hates being talked to like that.

"Or what?" He demands and steps forward before he can stop himself. The frustration, guilt of their situation has him on edge enough that the filter on his mouth disappears.

"Office now. Move." Brendan grabs his arm and shoves him in front of him. He goes to give him a mouthful but Brendan cuts him off with a growl. "Move."

As soon as he's got the door open Brendan pushes him inside.

"Just because I've had my dick in you doesn't mean you can talk to me like that."

"That it? That all you've got say?" He goes for the door.

Brendan frowns and looks him over and he wishes he could gauge his eyes out for the way it flares in his guts. He shouldn't be looking at him like that.

"This is why I don't fuck people that work for me." Brendan mutters.

"Really?" He laughs bitter.

"Especially not gobby little fuckers who throw shit fits. In this club I am your boss Steven, when I tell you to do something I expect you to do it."

"Anything else?"

Brendan narrows his eyes at him.

"Can I go oh lord and master?"

"You better watch your mouth."

"Oh yeah?"

"I hear anything about what happened between me and you from anyone, that's it you're done here."

"Because I'm going to be shouting it from the roof tops?"

"It stays between us do you understand me?"

"And Simon."

"What I do outside of this club is none of Walker's business and he knows that."

"Didn't think he'd go for that." He wouldn't but then he's not Simon. He doesn't get to be anything but a mistake.

"Point is that what happened doesn't change anything in this club. You get no favours, there's no blackmail."

"Blackmail?"

"I won't be held to ransom by some cocky little prick demanding things from me because I gave you what you wanted."

"What I wanted?"

"Don't be one of those."

"Be one of what?"

"Don't turn around and say you didn't want it after the fact because things aren't going your way."

"It was sex that's it. I wanted it but you did to so don't you go throwing that at me. I don't expect anything off you, I don't even want anything off you. As far as I'm concerned I wished it never happened I just want to put it behind me and get on with my job if that's alright with you, boss?"

"Fine if that's the way you want it." Brendan unscrews the bottle of whiskey on his desk. "As your boss you go out there and you get your head back on making me money."

"I could make you more money if you let me in the back rooms."

"If that's what you want."

"If that's… You were the one that barred me."

"Consider it lifted. You want to go into the back and get groped that's up to you."

"It wasn't a couple of weeks ago, or even in summer…"

"Times change... Now get out."

"Yes boss." He seethes all the way back to the dressing room. Fucking prick. Thinking he was going to be using sleeping together as a way of blackmailing him. He knew Brendan had a low opinion of him he hadn't realised it was that bad.

He goes back out onto the floor still with simmering anger that he puts to good use, using dancing as a way to get it out of his system. He's more aggressive in his touch, more forceful with his hips and most of the men appreciate it, a few regulars are taken aback. Sweet and innocent was what they wanted. Bitter and shameless is what they got.

Brendan hands him his money with a slur on his tongue and a glaze to his eyes.

"I'd love to know what's going on with the boss." Doug says as he drinks his coffee. Working the day shift perks, being able to go out for late lunch rather than being stuck in the club.

He shrugs. Brendan's being tearing into everyone and some of them, like Doug are taking it to heart. He doesn't. Brendan can say what he likes to him it's water off a ducks back now. He isn't even rising to it however had he finds it he's holding his tongue, usually by biting it and digging his nails into his palms.

"Properly had a fight with Simon." He adds another sugar to his coffee.

"Simon?"

"You know since they're together."

"Since when?"

"You told me they were together."

"Oh that. Yeah totally wrong. Simon's bike was off the road and Brendan was giving him a lift home after work."

"You said…" He gets that sinking dread feeling that he's gotten not only the wrong end of the stick, but the wrong stick.

"You know what the rumour mills like… You and me were fucking for ages apparently."

He stares at Doug.

"I mean I would have liked that to be true… You do know that don't you…"

He drops his head onto his arms and groans.

"Hey I'm not so bad you know." Doug rattles on and on. "There's worse on offer than me and we make a good team out on stage…"

He scrubs his face.

"I've got to go."

"Go?"

"Yeah… I…"

"I shouldn't have said anything." Doug sighs.

"It's…" He takes a moment from his whirling mind the cogs twisting at how it all went so wrong.

He doesn't know what to do. Apologise to Brendan, for what? For thinking he was sleeping with Simon when he wasn't. For thinking he was with someone when he wasn't. For believing what they had done was wrong morally even if it didn't feel it? For arguing with him? They weren't even arguing about the same thing and still Brendan made it clear exactly what he thought of him or how little he thought of him. What did it even matter?

"Cheer up might never happen." Jack states as he walks into the dressing room and drops his bag down.

He hadn't gone home, he was already on thin ice with Brendan, with Mitzeee he went home and there was every chance that he was getting fired and then what was he going to do when he went back to college and the bills kept rolling in.

He'd already arranged to have Christmas eve, day and boxing day off. They were brilliant paying days but nothing could keep him away from watching Leah and Lucas playing with their new toys. Wrapping paper spread from one side of the room to the other. Amy insisting that he left the Turkey to her even if he did sneak a bit extra rosemary into the stuffing while she wasn't looking.

He lies back and relaxes, enjoys playing with his kids and being a part of a family. He tries to keep busy, keep his mind off the mess he was in.

He keeps his head down, his mouth in check, he keeps the customers happy when he returns to the grind.

"When Ethan knocks, calls time, that's time." And Brendan still tears into him every night for nothing, seems to get even angrier when he doesn't fight back, doesn't give him any lip.

He manages to avoid him most of the time, deals with Mitzeee when ever possible sometimes it's unavoidable and then it hits him how much he missed talking to him, joking, flirting even when Brendan walked away mid-flow.

"Give me a ring if you're looking for something over the summer." Mitzeee states handing him his last night's pay.

"Didn't think I'd be welcome."

"You haven't been up to your usual standards but I'm always keen to have you back."

"I'll let you know."

* * *

One more after this.


End file.
